


Ain't No Me

by xenascully



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Dean, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenascully/pseuds/xenascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excerpt: "If it'd been me making the sacrifice, you'd be free to have the normal life you always wanted. There's the difference, Sam; you can be happy here without me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own them. Just play.

The ride back to the bunker was long and silent. Sam slept for most of it, and when he wasn't sleeping, he was pretending to sleep. Dean knew the difference. He knew it meant Sam didn't wanna talk, and that was fine by him. For now at least.

When they did get back, when they were both inside and grabbing their bags to take them to their rooms, Dean had had enough of the silence. He needed to talk. So he started talking.

"It's not about makin' the right choice, Sammy," he started. Sam stopped and turned to him. "It's trusting me to make the choice that's keeps you breathin'. That's always gonna be the one I choose, and if that means you can't trust me... If you're telling me that I can't be your brother, then I guess I should just check out now because you're the only reason I keep going at all. If you don't get that...if you don't care...then I have no damn reason left on this planet to stick around."

"Dean-"

"No, Sam. Don't tell me that I don't get it," he interrupted. "I get it. I do. What I don't get is when the hell you started caring more about what's best for the hunt than what's best for the family," he said. Then he laughed. "You used to get so angry...when me or Dad would do something stupid like knowingly almost get ourselves killed just to ice a ghost or whatever. You'd get so mad and you'd start your fight with him about how he cared more about the hunt than he did us."

"But I was wrong," Sam defended, his jaw working to hold back the feeling of guilt in that statement. "Dad cared about us."

"Yeah he did. That's why he...sacrificed himself to keep me alive," Dean said, attempting to hide the emotion it caused him to say it.

"Did you forget how much that hurt you?" Sam asked. "Because I remember how much it killed you inside to know that."

"And I know how much my deal to save you pissed you off, too," Dean replied. "I mean, come on, man. We sacrifice ourselves so much, all the time. Not even just for eachother? We've dedicated our whole lives to saving everyone else's asses. Is it really so much to ask for something in return?"

"You mean sacrificing the greater good of the world in order to keep me alive?" Sam asked incredulously.

"No, Sam," he shook his head. "Not sacrificing you just to get rid of some of the crap part of it. It ain't worth it to me. No one on this planet is worth more to me than you." He watched his brother look down and shake his head dismissively. "Ya know, maybe that doesn't mean anything to you anymore," he smiled sadly. "Maybe you're ready to die, first chance you might get to sacrifice yourself for somethin' big. But you know what? I'm not ready to let that happen. I won't ever be ready to let that happen, and if that makes me less of a brother to you, I guess I gotta settle for the demotion, because no matter what you are to me, Sammy, no matter what you wanna call me, it won't ever change the fact that I love you more than anything else in the whole world. So I guess I'm just screwed," he said quietly. "You say you can't trust me, but hell, Sam, I can't even trust myself. Not when it comes to you." Sam met his eyes then. "That's always been a problem for me. Or at least I used to think so. I used to think it was a weakness, something that held me back. And ya know...maybe it is. I'm a gigantic screw-up. I know it. But I wouldn't change anything I've done. Not one single damn thing. And I know that that's selfish as hell, and messed up and scary to think, especially after everything and everyone we've lost in the process.

"It's messed up because it's not just you that I'm saving you for. It's me, too. I can't do this alone, Sammy. I can't be here if you're not. We been to this rodeo so many times. Both of us. We don't work without the other, job or no job. I ain't gonna go off and live the apple pie life again, 'cause that ain't me and faking happiness doesn't make you any less dead inside. So goddamnit, Sammy, if you can't see what I'm trying to tell you... The only alternative to keeping you alive, for me, is a gun in my mouth. It's always only ever been that. And screw you, by the way, for makin' me promise to stick around after you jumped into the pit."

"The problem, Dean, is that you're so willing to sacrifice you, but you'll never let me be the one making the sacrifice," Sam told him. "Just...admit to me that if it had been you that went through the trials, if you were the one standing there in the church, at death's door, you wouldn't have stopped, no matter what I'd said to you."

"Because I'd have been leaving you here safe," Dean argued. "If it'd been me making the sacrifice, you'd be free to have the normal life you always wanted. There's the difference, Sam; you can be happy here without me." He turned away then, grabbing his bag from the floor. Sam stared after him, unable to bring himself to respond. "Don't worry about it," he said quieter. "Once I clean up the mess I made, I'll be outta your hair for good," he said without looking back, then headed toward his room.

Sam stood there stubbornly unwilling to let go of his previously stated terms, yet feeling guilty as hell about everything his brother had just said to him. But it wouldn't change anything. He couldn't let it change anything...

*~.~*

When it was all said and done, Abaddon dead and Crowley back in his place as King of Hell (at Dean's begrudging compromise since he had pretty much saved them a few times during this mess), Metatron destroyed by his own kind, Gadreel stripped of his wings and sentenced to live out the rest of his days as a human, and Heaven restocked with all of its feathery douche-bags, Sam discovers just how literal Dean had been.


	2. Chapter 2

A bell jingled as the front door opened, and Gary Holfstetter looking up over his bifocals as a brunette woman walked in. She was in jeans a button up blouse with a flannel pattern. She met his eyes as she approached the desk.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked her.

"Are you Mr. Holfstetter?" she asked.

"That's me," he gave her a small smile.

She pulled something from her pocket. "I'm Sheriff Jody Mills," she said as she showed him her badge. "You called me to come down here. That there was something I'm supposed to pick up," she said, confusion and intrigue showed on her face.

The man's face lost its smile and it was replaced with what Jody could only read as 'troubled'. "Yes, ma'am," he replied. "Eh...this is a strange situation, I know. Now...this is a family run business," he explained. "My son...well, he's not exactly clear on how the rules work with this kinda thing, so when he was approached with this large wad of cash and asked for a favor, he took it up."

"Favor?" Jody raised a brow, already not liking the sound of this.

"Carl, that's my boy, he was approached by a young man who told him...well, hell, lemme go and grab him. He can tell you himself," he said and turned. "Carl!" he shouted as he walked toward a door to the back. After a moment, Carl was up front with his father. "Tell the sheriff all what happened," he instructed.

Carl stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes. "I...I thought maybe it might not be the right thing to do," he started, his southern twang heavier than his father's. "But he was so...desperate. He...he and I were sittin' at the same bar a few nights ago and...he knew who I was I guess, 'cause he started talkin' to me like he knew I worked here. Like he'd been here before. Anyway, he asked me if he could trust me to do somethin' for him. He said...he said he was dyin'; he'd be dead before mornin' and he needed me to take him back here and take his picture, ya know...for evidence that it was him...and then..." he didn't need to finish in order for her to know what he meant.

"And you did this," Jody surmised, a bit shocked.

Carl nodded, embarrassed. "Tell her the rest, son," Gary said.

"He uh..." he reached into his pocket as he spoke, "He gave me these letters," he told her, meeting her eyes then. "And instructions to call you once it was all said and done. I figured...maybe he done somethin' wrong and..." he swallowed the lump in his throat as Jody took the letters. "He just seemed so sad," he continued. "I...I didn't know what else to do, and I didn't wanna let him down. I know..." he shook his head. "I had only just met the guy, but...he was real nice, and..." he shook his head again and Jody could see wetness in his eyes before he turned around and quickly headed back out the door to the back end.

Gary sighed and shook his head. "He's been workin' here for six months now, but this is the first he's known someone who needed our services in this capacity. I can't even bring myself to be so hard on him, although I know I need to be because this is..." he sighed again. "I am sorry, sheriff," he told her. "It's against regulations, I know. But if you could find it in your heart not to throw my son in jail..."

"Mr. Holfstetter, I'm gonna need a little more information before we can even begin to discuss that," she said. He nodded. "What was the man's name and why did he ask for you to contact me?"

"He never did give us a name, and there was no ID on him," Gary replied. Then he reached into the desk drawer to pull something out. "But, he told my son that you'd know who he was, and that you'd know what to do." He handed her a photograph.

When she took it from him and looked down, her hand flew immediately to her mouth, tears springing to her eyes in disbelief. "Oh god..." she said. "Oh no..."

"I take it you knew him. I'm so sorry..."

"I uh..." she swallowed, unable to tear her eyes from the picture. "I need to... Don't tell anyone about this," she said, looking up at him for a moment. "Give me everything you have that has anything to do with him..."

*~.~*

Sam pulled on his shoes, readying to head out and grab something for dinner, when his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the caller ID and was surprised to see the name. "Jody?" he answered.

"Where are you?" she asked on the other line.

Sam could hear something in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"Sam, where are you?" she asked more urgently.

"I'm...in Kansas," he replied, confused. "Why?"

"I know...I know you're in Kansas, Sam, but I mean more specifically. I need to know...where to meet you. Where are you staying?"

"I can give you directions... Are you coming here? Jody, are you hurt?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes," she replied tearfully. "I just really need you to tell me where you are," she said as she pulled herself together.

"Okay," he shook his head, swallowing down a lump that had formed in his throat at the sound of her pain. "I'll text you the address. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Not until I get there," she told him, having reigned in the tears for now. "I'm in Lebanon. I've been driving since this morning."

"From Sioux Falls?" he asked incredulously. "Jody, what's going on?" He heard her voice shake on the other line before she ended the call. He looked down at the screen before his mind started whirling with thoughts. What if she was being coerced to lead something here? What if there was a demon in the back seat or something? No... They had a codeword for that, and she knew what it was. If she was in danger, she'd have used it. Something was wrong, definitely. But it wasn't that.

It only took ten minutes for Sam to hear the car pull up outside. He'd texted her to let herself in, as he was now making do with using whatever he could scrounge up in the kitchen to make something to eat for both of them. He heard her call out to him as she descended the stairs.

"Come on in!" he called. "I'm in the kitchen. Just...I'll be out in a sec." He hurried to get the soup pan off the stove. He wanted to get out there to her and see what was wrong, but he didn't want to burn the place down in the meantime. By the time he'd situated everything and headed out, Jody was standing in front of the table. "Jody," he greeted.

She turned around and before she crushed him into a hug, he could see the redness in her eyes. She was shaking as he wrapped his arms around her. He noticed she'd brought a few things in that were now on the table. A small box of some sort, some papers and a manilla envelope.

"Jody, what's wrong?" he asked, pulling gently out of the hug and grabbing her arms so that he could look at her.

"Do you..." her voice cracked, and she stopped to clear her throat and start again. "Do you know anything...about Dean?"

Sam got a strange, confused look on his face. "Uh...like...what do you mean? Shoe size? Fuel preference?"

"When did you last see him?" she asked, keeping her voice as straight as possible.

"Uh..." he shook his head as if to clear it. "A few days ago...maybe longer. We were just finishing tying up some...loose ends. Jody, what's this got to do with anything? You said you were hurt..."

She was already tearing up again after getting confirmation that Sam hadn't seen him in days. She nodded and turned to the table, pulling out a photograph but holding the front to herself. "You need to sit down," she told him.

Sam narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, his brain finally catching up and realizing that she wasn't actually physically hurt. Pieces began to click together; her tears, the questions, the photograph...and that box. But the answer couldn't...or wouldn't quite click into place. He shook his head. "What?"

"Sit, Sam," she said again. "Please."

Sam turned his head and kept his eyes on her, unsure of what to make of all of this as he sat down in one of the chairs just to get her to start talking. Jody sat down beside him, turning the chair so that she was facing him fully. Then she reached into the big envelope to pull out a smaller one, sealed, and handed it to him. Scrawled on its middle was 'Sam'.

"This is Dean's handwriting," Sam said, then looked back up at her. "Did he give this to you?"

"Just open it," she said, then turned her head to look at the box. Sam looked back down at the envelope, then turned it over and began to open it. It was just one sheet of paper folded up, and he opened it, glancing back up at Jody before looking down at the words Dean had written.

Sam,

This is the last time you'll ever be pissed at me. For that, I'm really grateful. It sucks when you're upset with me. It kinda hurts more than anything, really. Even if it's totally justified, which...well, I guess it usually is.

I'm about to do something, and by the time you get this, it'll be over and done. That's how I plan it anyway. I'm gonna have them call Jody because she's closest, and she'll be able to handle it. I hope she will, at least. So if everything goes accordingly, she should be there with you right now. I told her to stay for a few days. Just in case. Maybe you won't need her. Maybe this won't effect you. I don't know anymore.

Anyway, I just wanted to say goodbye. I know I kinda already did when we parted ways recently, but this time I mean for good. I wanted to tell you that I love you. Again. Because I don't really say it very much but I want you to know it. I wanted it to be right here for you in black and white.

I made arrangements. I made sure that there would be nothing left, so no one can make anymore rash decisions or deals or whatever. And the main reason I had this stuff brought to you is because I didn't want you thinking I was still somewhere where you could track me down. So I'm having her bring me back to you. You can do whatever you think you need to from there. I mean, I'd rather not sit in some hole in the ground, ya know? So...whatever you think is best.

There's a box under my bed. It's got some cash in it. Should hold you over for a while. Maybe you can get a house or something. I left the Impala at Bobby's old place. Keys are in the glove compartment. Take care of her, okay? Just go be happy, Sammy. That's all I want. It's why I'm...leaving. I want you to be happy. And I guess I don't wanna feel so sad anymore. I don't wanna feel anymore. It seems like every time I do, I screw something up, and I just don't want it to keep happening. So now that the world is all patched up, I hope you can do everything you've ever wanted. I'm glad I can go knowing you'll be safe.

I love you, Sammy.

-Dean.

Sam stared blankly at the page for a minute after he was finished reading it twice. He looked to the box, then back to the paper. The paper was shaking.

"Sam?" Jody's voice pulled his eyes to her.

"What...what does this mean?" he asked, hoping that his own conclusion was wrong.

"Dean is gone," she said, voice cracking as new tears formed in her eyes, now for the pain within the man sitting in front of her.

"Gone where?" he asked.

"He's gone, Sam. He's...he's gone."

He shook his head. "No."

"Sam-"

"No, I don't believe it. This is a trick. It's a joke," he said as he stood. "And it's not funny!"

"Sam, it's not a joke," she replied, then shoved the photo into his hands.

It was a man lying on a metal gurney table. A bloody open hole at his temple. He was pale. He was dead. He was Dean... Dean.

"No," Sam broke down, tears streaming his face. "No," he shook his head as he dropped the photo and went for the box, opening it to see the bag of ashes within it. His legs gave out under him, and as he fell, he just missed the chair, landing on his ass on the floor. "Oh god... Oh god...no," he curled into himself. He barely registered Jody kneeling beside him, her arms trying to hold onto him as he sobbed.

This isn't what he'd wanted. This isn't how he wanted Dean to feel. That wasn't what he meant at all. He never wanted Dean to stop being his brother. He just wanted to get a point across. He should never have let him leave... He should never have made him feel like he hated him. He should never have let Dean walk away thinking that he was right when he said that Sam could be happy here without him...

"Dean..." he sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't freak just yet...


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam." He heard his name and recognized the voice, and he pulled his head up to look at the angel that stood before him.

"Cas?" he questioned, and Castiel reached out toward him with two fingers, touching them to his forehead, and suddenly Jody wasn't there. The box wasn't there. The letter was gone... Sam stood up with shaky legs. "What did you do? What just happened?" he asked, confused and still distraught.

"What you just experienced hasn't happened yet," the angel told him.

"What?" Sam's eyes grew wide. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I wanted to show you what's to come if you don't intervene after you allowed your brother to leave in the state of mind he did," Cas told him.

"How...How would you even..." Sam was angry. He couldn't stop the feeling that was still numbing everything in his body from the shock he'd just gone through, so he was shaking still, tears still fighting their way out, though he angrily swiped at them. "You can't see the future!"

"No, I can't," he agreed. "But I'm not blind to the inevitable."

"The inevitable?" Sam asked incredulously.

"You underestimate how much you mean to Dean," he told him in a stern voice. "How difficult is it for you to believe that he would rather eat a bullet than to be without you?" The muscles in Sam's face twitched, the memory of the photograph still fresh in his mind. "I am so tired," Castiel continued, "Of the two of you and your arguments. And you, Sam," he pointed an accusing finger. "You and your hypocritical standards."

"Excuse me?" Sam's head tilted.

"You and I stood here in this very place discussing how many times you've screwed things up in the past unintentionally, all for things you believed you were doing right," he said with a bit of a scowl that shut Sam up. "Yet here you are telling Dean that he can't be trusted. By his own brother. The one he died to save; the one that's always kept his promises to you!" he shouted. "Even when it killed him even more inside to do so."

"He tricked me-"

"He did it to save you!" the angel interrupted before the man could continue. "He stopped you from closing the gates of Hell so that you would be spared! You expected him to just sit there and allow you to die anyway? After everything?"

Sam flinched, and his eyes wandered in the air between them for a moment. "He shouldn't have stopped me in the first place," he replied.

"And would you have completed it if it meant that both of you would die?" Castiel questioned. Sam swallowed. "Do you think Dean would have stayed on this plane of existence without you?" he asked. "Do you think he would have stayed, had you not made him promise to after you jumped into the Pit?"

The question struck a nerve in Sam. It was something Dean had said before.

"And screw you, by the way, for makin' me promise to stick around after you jumped into the pit."

And hell...Cas was right. Sam didn't want him to be, but he was right.

"What am I supposed to do?" Sam asked in a small voice.

"Go to him," he replied. "Tell him that you're an idiot. Tell him how you really feel, and I suggest that you think long and hard about what that is," he said as he got right up close in the taller man's face, "Because you have the tendency to fixate stubbornly on things and allow it to cloud your true judgment." He backed away a little when Sam looked uncomfortable enough for his liking. "And I suggest you do so quickly, because I've been watching him prepare."

"What?" Sam was shocked back into responsiveness.

"My initial observation that led to that end scenario began with his fixation on a crematorium and its young, naive employee. He has since spoken at length with him in a bar, and paid him a very large sum of money."

Sam was in a sudden panic mode. "Where is he?"

"Sioux Falls," he replied. "He's parked the Impala at what used to be Bobby's salvage yard."

"Can you take me to him?" Sam asked...

*~.~*

Dean had everything ready. Everything was organized and ready to go. He just really hoped the kid wouldn't flake out on him. If he did, his whole plan was pretty well screwed. But at least it wouldn't be his fault this time. Not really, anyway.

He eyed his favorite Colt in his hand, sort of saddened at the fact that it would be burned along with his body as he'd instructed in the note he left for Carl. It was a good gun. But there was no use in trying to salvage it after what he was about to do. He kinda hoped Sam wouldn't want the gun his brother offed himself with. He wondered if Sam would even really care.

God did he miss Sam. He missed when things weren't so complicated. He missed Sam's non-bullshit smile. But that wasn't coming back. Sam had made that perfectly clear. It seemed like the more Dean tried, the worse things got, and he couldn't keep going on like that. Sam would understand. Sam didn't need him anymore. That much was obvious. Especially after what went down at the end of their battle with Metatron. Sam had almost gotten himself killed, and Dean couldn't do anything about it. Well, he could have, but Sam wouldn't let him. Sam tried to make a deal with Metatron; his life serving the angel dickbag in exchange for letting the angels back into Heaven. Dean wanted to stop him; tried to open his mouth to contest, but Sam looked at him. And his eyes...god there was so much hatred in his eyes when he'd looked at him...

Dean realized that he was crying, now. He wasn't sure when that had started. He glanced at his watch, tightening his grip on the gun. Fifteen minutes and Carl would be there to pick up his body. He didn't have much more time to sit around and sulk.

He was sitting in the corner of the room on top of a cheap shower curtain he'd purchased at a hardware store in town. It was so that he wouldn't make a mess, and the kid could haul him out of there without getting blood all over his car. Dean was thoughtful if nothing else. It was funny, though, trying not to make a mess of this burned down place that Bobby used to call home. He was in what was once a living room. Now it was more like a cubicle with an intact fireplace. He was glad that he'd made sure to secure the property before the city could do anything with it. And double glad Jody Mills was willing to keep away any citations on its condition. He had at one point planned to rebuild the place, but...well, let's just say Purgatory puts a damper on plans. He supposed now, that he'd really just secured a good place to privately off himself. It was a good deal. Sam would never come here. He'd never have to look at the place where his brother died.

"Dean." He heard Sam's voice, and for a moment he thought he might have imagined it.

Sam stood there, frozen. It was against everything he'd been taught. Freezing meant someone could end up dead. He knew better. But upon seeing his brother sitting there with a gun in his hand and tears streaking his face, all lit up grimly by the moonlight shining in through the open roof, he found himself at a loss.

Dean looked up at him, and after a moment his shock slipped into anger. "Go away, Sam," he told him. "You are not Glock-blocking me a second time."

It took Sam a second to understand what he'd meant.

"Dean, please don't do this," Sam stepped forward, and Dean just pressed back further against the wall, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dean, please," his voice cracked.

Dean wasn't sure how to interpret the situation. He was panicking now. "You need to get outta here. I have someone coming in like ten minutes. I need to get this over with."

"I can't let you do that," Sam said.

"You have to," Dean looked at him then. "It's the only way." He looked resigned to that fact, and it scared the hell out of Sam.

"So what...you're sacrificing yourself for me? Is that what this is?" Sam asked, eyes reddening.

"No, Sammy," he said quietly as he looked back down at his gun. "I'm just tired. I'm so tired of it all. I'm done."

Sam's heart was pounding in his chest. Of everything he'd seen and done in his life, he didn't think he'd ever been this scared before. "Dean...I'm sorry. I was...stupid."

"Idiot," Cas whispered from where he was hiding by the door. "You were an idiot."

Sam scowled in his direction for a moment before turning back to Dean. "I was an idiot," he amended. "What I said to you before...I didn't mean what you think-"

"No, you were right, Sam," he said. "I'm hindering you, and I get that."

"No."

"It's true. You're the one I care about, more than anyone else. No matter what, when it comes down to it, I'd sacrifice them all to make sure you were okay, and that...that's not right. I'm not right." His hand gripped tight on the gun again.

"Dean, please don't do this to me," Sam's voice cracked as tears forced their way out.

"I'm doing this for you, Sammy."

"I don't want you to," he retorted. "I don't want you to go."

"Sam, you need to leave, because I'm not gonna do this in front of you."

"Then I'm not leaving," Sam said stubbornly, straightening himself.

Dean pushed up angrily from the floor and put the gun to his temple. "Go, Sam!" he shouted.

"No!" he cried. "Dean, no! Please! Please, Dean, I love you... I love you. You're my brother. Please..."

Dean's eye twitched, his mouth twitched along with it as his emotions became conflicted at his brother's words and the look on his face.

"If you do this," Sam said, "Then I'm gonna pick up that gun and do it to myself, next."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. Of all the things he thought would happen after this, that hadn't been part of the equation. This was supposed to be for Sam. To keep Sam safe. To let him be happy. And looking at him now, he was anything but. He couldn't let Sam die. Not like this.

"Sam..." he said in a shaky voice. "I can't keep goin' like this," he shook his head. "I can't...watch you hate me," he said as more tears dropped from his eyes.

"I don't hate you, Dean. I could never hate you," he replied, taking another step forward. "I'm sorry. I was wrong and I'm sorry. Please forgive me, Dean. Please... Please don't do this."

"It was never because of you, Sammy," his gaze faltered as Sam moved forward, his arm slowly dropping away from his head. His vision swam with the tears that flooded his eyes. "It was never supposed to be that..."

As Sam reached him, pulling his brother's body into an embrace, Dean dropped the gun to the floor, his body going limp. He broke down in Sam's arms, and Sam held onto him like a lifeline, lowering them both to kneel when it felt like he couldn't hold him up any longer.

"Come home," Sam said through his own tears. "Come home, Dean."

And Dean's arms suddenly had the strength to move up and hold onto his brother as he nodded. "Okay, Sammy..."

*~.~*

Castiel brought them home, satisfied now with the first step in the brothers' reconciliation. It would probably happen again, the Winchesters getting into a fight or two about something or other. Perhaps this was his purpose, now. Bringing them home to each other. Perhaps that had always been his purpose...and he seemed oddly okay with that.

~Fin


End file.
